


RADA Studios

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [109]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 38 lifetimes, F/M, Fingering, Flirting, RADA!Tom, Student!Tom, red nose diaries, the red nose diaries, third base
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Tom and Carmen, both students at RADA, are scene partners with some friction between them.





	RADA Studios

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted in two parts on Tumblr but I decided to post as one fic here.

When he heard the door open, Tom made an exaggerated sigh but continued to pore his script.

“You’re late,” he said, not looking up.

Carmen stopped short, the doorway framing her windblown hair. Her furrowed brow resolved into a look of insouciance. She cocked her head, considering the sight of Tom who sat on a wooden chair set in the middle of the rehearsal space.

“No, I’m not,” she retorted, then continued to make her way in. Discarding her coat and bag by the door, she came to a spot just a few feet in front of Tom.

Tom, still not looking up from his script, pointed behind him. There was a clock there, hung between two windows on the far wall.

Carmen frowned in the direction of where he pointed. “Why are you pointing out the window?”

Tom put his arm down. “I was pointing at the clock.”

“Which says one o’clock.”

“Correct.”

“Which proves that I’m not late.”

“Which means that if we are to begin work at one o’clock, then we should endeavour to  _ arrive _ at ten to the hour.”

“So I should have been here at twelve fifty?”

“Unless my calculations are incorrect,” said Tom.

“Then you should just have  _ said _ twelve fifty, Tom,” Carmen replied.

“Who would do something like set a start time of twelve fifty?”

“People who are too passive aggressive to tell their scene partners that what they really want to do is start at one?”

Tom’s face was flushed, his lips set into a thin line, when he finally deigned to look at Carmen. By the look on her face, he couldn’t tell if she was genuinely annoyed or just messing with him.

Tom decided to ignore the slight. “Are you off book?”

Carmen rolled her eyes. “Of course I am. I have, like, three lines, and you have a gazillion.”

“It’s a short scene at least,” Tom referred back to the play.

“And you just happened to pick the one with the character known for his…” Carmen grinned. “What does it say in the text? Oh, yes:  _ I’m known for my enormous vocabulary. My capacious vocabulary! The egregious, rapacious, dithyrambic…” _

“It’s dithy _ ram _ bic,” Tom cut in.

“What did I say?”

” _ Dith _ yrambic,” he explained.

Carmen rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir, Professor Cambridge.”

Tom got to his feet. “Ex _ cuse _ me…?”

“Oh great!” Carmen said, brightly. “Let’s begin.”

There was a sofa in the middle of the room, positioned so it faced a mirrored wall. Carmen sat on one of its arms, and watched as Tom approached her. Her eyes flit between his face and their reflection in the mirror. She noticed, not for the first time, how broad his shoulders were. How his narrow hips almost swam in the baggy jeans he always wore. His curls were more pronounced than her own, and she resisted the urge to reach up and pull at one just for the pleasure of watching it recoil.

“Start from the beginning?” Carmen asked.

Tom shook his head. “I was thinking we could…” He coughed. “We could try from the candelabra.”

Carmen cleared her throat, though she didn’t really need to. “Okay.”

They had read through the play a few times, but had only blocked it out as far as his character, a playwright in his early thirties, was about to complete the seduction of her character, a seventeen year old model. Of course there was a love scene, or reference to one. There was no requirement for them to actually  _ do _ anything. And anyway it was meant to be something of a comic scene…

“Hold on,” Carmen said. “My bra.”

“What?”

“Candelabra comes after you tell me to take off my bra.” Carmen got to her feet, and for a moment she was just a little too into Tom’s space. She reached behind her, under her sweater, and Tom couldn’t help staring at the front as her breasts rose and then fell with the effort. So he didn’t notice her watching his face, how she bit her lip when she saw him inhale sharply. Carmen deposited the garment on the back of the sofa, then took a seat.

_ “I wish I understood you. I wish I knew what you were saying.” _

“What?” Tom asked again.

“That’s the line, Tom,” she said.

“Right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Tom shook his head.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Carmen asked. Now she looked cross. “I know you don’t like me that well…”

Tom sputtered: “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Carmen replied.

“What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t my fault we got paired up…”

“I never said…”

“Anyway the sooner we get this over with…”

“Who said…?”

“Could you pretend?” Carmen asked. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Could you pretend like you want me?”

Tom was genuinely befuddled. He took a moment, even turning to look at himself in the mirror. He looked like what he thought a successful playwright on the verge of bedding a teenage model should look like. He had been growing out his hair, and he’d finally figured out how to use the hair gel Sarah had bought him. Behind him, he saw Carmen leaning forward, arms propped up on the tops of her knees. Her arms were folded under her chin. She studied him, too.

“Could I pretend?”

“Yeah, pretend.” Carmen nodded. “Act like you want me.”

“Is that not what I’ve been doing?” Tom asked of her reflection.

“You’re acting like it’s a comedy,” said Carmen, in a patient sort of way that one might used to talk to a dullard or a small child.

“Isn’t it a comedy, or a comedic instance in the play?”

“Yeah, but not to the playwright,” she replied. “He’s just foolish and ardent and super drunk. He is as sincere as a person can be while trying to get a leg over.”

“Huh.”

“There is nothing funnier than a man scrambling to get laid,” Carmen declared.

“So what’s the problem?” Tom decided to join her on the sofa, making sure Carmen had enough room so that he wasn’t infringing on what little space she had. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she considered the question.

“You’re playing it like you need the audience to know that you’re in on the joke,” she explained. “Why does it matter?”

“Well, how else would they know?”

“That you know it’s funny?”

“That’s right.”

“Tom,” she interrupted, putting her hand on his arm. “How can you be in on the joke if you, like,  _ are _ the joke?”

“Because that’s what makes this so smart!” Tom insisted. “It’s why we’re doing it and not Benny Hill!”

“Yeah, but.” Carmen shrugged. “I think it’s better if you play it like you’re not smart.”

“Not smart,” Tom repeated.

“Like you’re really dumb.” She smirked at him over her shoulder.

“Okay.”

“Bu I know you went to  _ Cambridge _ so I know it’ll be a stretch.”

“It’ll be acting, which is what we’re here for, is it not?” Tom made a show of sniffing, and that made Carmen laugh.

“Yeah, so just act like a dummy, and pretend you want to sleep with me, and then we should be good.”

Before Tom could ask her about this, this second time where she brought up having to pretend that he wanted her, she looked away. Carmen straightened her skirt, and took a few breaths.

“Why do you think I’d have to pretend to want you?” Tom asked.

“Huh?” Carmen’s eyes were back on him.

“You said it before, and you said it now.”

“It’s in the script,” Carmen said.

“Right.”

“And also, you were cross I was late even though I was actually on time.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Tom, sincerely.

“And I know you wanted to work with Phoebe for this assignment.”

“Phoebe?” An image of a tall girl with dark curly hair and blue eyes, all cheekbones and elbows and legs, came to Tom’s mind. “What made you think…”

“Well, the two of you are both so tall and posh…” Carmen began to say, ignoring the sputters of indignation from Tom. “And she is easily the best actress in our cohort.”

“Well, she’s certainly funny,” Tom allowed.

“I just think it would have been less work if it had been the two of you together.” Carmen insisted. “She looks like she could act the part of a seventeen year old model.”

“Not one so dumb as…”

“Hey! No.” Carmen flipped her hair. “The model isn’t dumb, she’s just really young.”

“But why would she let this playwright have at her when she…”

“Because sometimes it’s cool when an older, successful guy is interested.” Carmen bit her lip. “Especially if the older, successful guy has drugs for you.”

Even Tom had to laugh at that.

“So should we try this, then?” Carmen patted the spot on the sofa between them. “Candelabra or no candelabra, we should try to block this.”

Tom got to his knees in front of her, looking down at her lap and the hem of her rather brief skirt. He felt her gaze, then looked up.

Somehow her eyes were glazed, like she had been on something. Or maybe it was that they were so close now, truly face to face, and he could see how wide they were. Just like a teenage girl. Which wasn’t that much younger than the two of them were now — Tom was 24, and he was aware that Carmen was just a few years older.

He emptied himself of everything he had thought before. Even the words he meant to speak. He focused on the very full center of her plump bottom lip, which was punctuated by a small mole. He hadn’t noticed this detail. He found it charming. She was blushing, which she was supposed to do, and it was quite lovely.

_ “Tell me more about yourself. Everything about you interests me. Have you ever been in love?” _

Carmen blinked, then hiccuped. A brilliant decision, as it made her gasp. A natural cue for him to speak the next line as if he were interrupting her.

_ “Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” _

And Tom really wondered, then said:  _ “And you miss him, don’t you?” _

When she began to cry, Tom couldn’t help feeling triumphant. As a student actor, he was pleased by the chemistry that was beginning to occur. And as he continued his lines — “ _ We’ll go to the Rajasthan. There are forts, can you imagine? built over the cities. I’ll put you on the battlements, and we’ll fuck each other’s brains out.” _ — he could see in Carmen’s eyes that she believed him. The next thing to do was get her surrender.

_ “That I want to be with you. That I can’t get enough of you. That everything about you… your beautiful little jumper…” _

Tom was no longer kneeling before her but splayed across her, kissing her breasts through her jumper. It was soft, maybe too soft. And the room was warm, perhaps warmer than it needed to be. The afternoon sun coming in through the windows had bounced off the mirrors right onto the spot where the sofa had been pulled. But it felt cozy. The two of them moving against each other, and then her fingers were running through his hair. His left hand, in seeking purchase, went for the edge of the sofa but got her waist instead. The fabric of her skirt and the bare skin above it. His thumb kneading at the spot, in time with his lips.

Tom’s mouth watered. He wanted to taste her. With his other hand, he grabbed one of hers. He would kiss her palm, the slight bone of her wrist. Carmen’s fingers fluttered in his grasp, only for a moment, and then she took her hand back. She needed it back to start pulling at her jumper. Up from the waist so then there was bare skin that Tom could feel on his throat. Soft cashmere ruching and folding until he was greeted with the sight and the touch of her bare skin. A round tummy half covered by her skirt, and her bare breasts.

He nuzzled her, trailing up her body until his lips were up to her nipples. It was then that he turned to look up at Carmen, and when he did he found her eyes shining. A smirk on her lips. A slight toss of her head, and he was moving forward. His kisses were small, nipping things. Bookmarking spots he fully intended to return to. But first, her lips. His mouth was open, his tongue searching, for he had no shame about his desire to devour her now. His stomach rumbled, and she laughed. But gently, just enough to show her pleasure while enabling him to continue kissing her.

Tom’s right hand had found a sweet resting spot upon her left breast. He was perfectly happy to caress it idly, even as their kissing became more heated. He may have had thin lips but his tongue was quite long. But there could be more. Tom’s hips began to rock, his erection ever present against Carmen’s right thigh. And then there was the matter of her own arousal, which Tom thought he could even smell. Carmen took his hand off her breast and placed it at her waist. Tom sought the heat of her pussy, and at the first touch of his fingers to her clit, Carmen squeaked before sucking on his tongue with renewed vigor. Her thighs tightened around his hand, and Tom found he could make them buck apart when he applied more pressure to the circling of her clit. Teased her folds with his long fingers. It had been years since had been made to take piano lessons, but he still knew how to play. He listened, and breathed, snorted when her scent became sharper and stronger.

She was wet between the thighs and he wanted to lick his fingers to taste her. But her hold on him was strong, so for the time being Tom would have settle for her lips and her tongue. Sucking on her neck so hard he knew he would leave bruises. Bad manners? Maybe. But what were manners in comparison to fingering one’s sneakily hot scene partner in an empty rehearsal room at RADA on a Sunday afternoon?

Carmen gasped, as if in shock, when Tom curled his index finger inside her and at the same time tapped her clit quickly with his thumb. He watched her face, and saw how heavy her lids were. She was red cheeked and panting for him, and it was wonderful to see. His own body sought relief, for still he ground his cock against her thigh, but for now, for him? Tom sought only to make her come. He wanted to watch her do it. In his limited experience, he was too self-conscious as he fumbled about on futons in dark dorm rooms. True, the light in the rehearsal room was too bright but it was worth it for him to see. He kept his eyes open, though, as long as she was able to. And it was only when Carmen yielded, her body stiffening and her eyes finally squeezing shut as the force of an orgasm came upon her, that Tom finally shut his eyes. He pressed his face to her cheek, finding her pulse and then the rhythm of her breath as she came down from wherever she had gone.

It would have been easy to laze in her post-orgasmic stupor, bask in her literal glow. But there was still the matter of Tom’s own hard cock. Like an unwelcome knock at the door, though Carmen didn’t seem to mind answering. She groaned, but with a smile, and spread her legs wider. Tom’s relief was palpable. He could take her in his arms, kiss her at his leisure even as his hips’ movements grew more frantic and erratic.

“Do you want me to…?” Carmen bit gently at his throat. “With my hands, or…?”

“No,” Tom whispered. “But if you wouldn’t mind moving with me?”

Carmen smiled, then started sucking at the crook of his neck. Taking a few moments to absorb the pace and the sway of Tom’s hips, the eager insistent press of his cock to her own sex, she wrapped her legs around him, and complied with his request.


End file.
